Secondhand Luck

1

The coffeehouse was a familiar mix of shoppers grabbing a quick bite and silent, focused people working on their laptops, gazes fixed and lukewarm cups of coffee beside them. The Chicago River was only a few blocks off, and I stifled a shiver when the wind drove pellets of snow against the wide windows, pattering like rain. It felt good to be out of St. Unoc-even if my thin Arizona blood couldn't handle the cold-and I hunched deeper into my admittedly lightweight coat as I waited for Lev to come back with coffee.

All the better to fit in with, my dear, I thought as I scanned the café for our target. Chicago had a decent-size mage population, which meant glittery dross hung in the corners like bits of straw paper and discarded stirring sticks-and my nose wrinkled in disgust at the waste created by magic use. Unlike mundanes, mages, sweepers, and Spinners could all see the latent, dangerous energy to some degree, but only sweepers and Spinners could physically handle it without issue.

It wasn't illegal for mages to discard their dross at the point of magic; in fact, I harbored the belief that most mages did it for the amusement factor, getting a kick out of watching an oblivious mundane step in it like dog doo, where it invariably fractured into bad luck. I'd always thought the practice criminally risky. Too many accidents might break the silence of our existence and expose us. Everyone was supposed to work to keep the silence. Most mages equated that with sweepers cleaning up after them.

I wasn't a sweeper anymore, having found my true potential as a weaver, but it was hard to let go of the feeling of passive discrimination, and I risked a glance at Benedict sitting with a smiling woman at the far end of the store. He was the bait in this bad-mage trap-clearly the most affluent of our four-person team. It was a good bet that, as innocuous as the woman seemed, we had found our target.

Lev's militia intel hadn't included a description, other than it was a woman who had been magically mugging both human and mage alike for the last three months. Three months, and all they had was that she was an ether mage, stealing everything in her take's wallet, both physical and phone. She blotted out the incriminating memories, leaving her victims oblivious until after the fact. All we had was that she tended to pick up her marks around here. Sloppy.

But I suppose if you could magic the memory of yourself right out of someone's mind, you could afford to be a little sloppy.

The door chimes rang, and I pulled my collar closer when two men came in, coats open as if oblivious to the cold. So unfair, I thought when the draft hit me. "You okay, Pluck?" I whispered as I fingered my lodestone, safe around my neck.

A deeper cold tingled against my fingertips, the sensation somehow carrying a feeling of mirth. I am the cold, sifted dryly through my mind, and I smiled as I tucked the rough, semitransparent, greenish-black crystal behind my sweater, where it made a cold spot against me. Living shadows did best in the dark, and though Pluck could tolerate light if he took a form, a sleek hairless dog the size of a Doberman would attract a lot of attention. His snake aspect would be even worse. I usually discouraged him from hiding in the wire-wrapped chunk of moldavite, but the longer he was in it, the more dark matter accumulated in it-and the stronger my magic was.

I was pretty sure that was our coffee sitting at the take-out counter, and still Lev chatted up the barista, either to make sure she wasn't the mage we were looking for or, more likely, because the trim woman was very much his type. Lev was the lead on this, being mage militia-our clandestine police force in a world where magic wasn't supposed to exist. His recent promotion put him as Master Ranger Lev Evander, but bunnies would lay eggs before I'd call him that, especially when the promotion had been so he could better babysit Pluck and me.

Agreeing to work with-not for-the militia had been the best of my bad choices, and until I found a way out of my agreement, I was splitting my time between the militia and working for St. Unoc University, one of a few mage schools of higher learning. Both the university and the militia wanted to know if a living shadow could overpower ether magic-which was why I was here, freezing my toes off in Chicago in November.

And where I went, Dr. Benedict Strom, my boyfriend and one-time darling of St. Unoc University, pulled strings to find a reason to follow. If we were lucky, we'd snag the thief this afternoon, giving Pluck and me time to check out the local high school for a possible weaver hiding among the sweeper population. Catching a badly behaving ether mage would put some money in my pocket, but finding a weaver was my true goal. That, and a really good pizza.

This is taking too long, I thought as Lev finally gathered our coffees and headed over. St. Unoc had an artificially high ratio of magic users to mundanes. Though still covert, magic was an everyday occurrence at the university. Here, in downtown Chicago, any blatant show of the paranormal would get everyone in trouble. We had to be fast and subtle. Fast I could handle. Subtle . . . not so much.

"The barista is clear?" I asked when Lev set a coffee in front of me, and the young man with his intentionally too-long hair nodded. Cold, I wrapped both my hands around the paper cup to try to warm them. Steam rose between me and my view of Benedict and the possible suspect.

Jealousy flickered, soothed by Pluck's confident thoughts twining about mine. Once, sharing mental space had given me a migraine. Not bad considering anyone else but a weaver would be driven insane by it. That had been months ago, and now all that remained was a faint sense of fizzing, the cold of pure energy diving deep in my mind whenever we touched.

Lev dragged a stool closer to the high table, the slim, shorter man easing himself onto it with a casual hip shift. He was wearing a tatty cloth coat and worn knit hat, but he still looked military to me, even slouched as he was. It was something in the eyes, the walk: steady, observant, not a flinch when a crash came from behind the counter. A lodestone glittered from one ear, the glass more precious than the diamond it was trying to mimic. He was a mage, obviously, but I'd never felt slighted in his presence, not even once, and I trusted him, had trusted him, with my life.

"I got some of those little scones," he said as he unwrapped the brightly patterned paper. "You want one?"

I shook my head, too nervous to eat. "To better blend in?" I guessed, and his smile widened into a grin.

"Because I'm hungry," he said as he shoved an entire scone into his mouth. "Don't look at them," he said, his words garbled.

I grimaced, knowing he was right. Much to my surprise, Pluck ghosted out of the moldavite lodestone. The shadow was careful to remain in a near pure-energy state that would be hard to see, his hazy, tingling wash of presence slipping down my arm like an icy aura until he coalesced into a wispy snake wrapped around my wrist. Large dog, small snake: the living energy was what he wanted to be.

"It's got to be her," I said, annoyed at how close their heads were when Benedict showed the pretty brunette something on his phone and she giggled.

An unexpected wave of amusement hit me. Pluck's, obviously. If you want him to do more than kiss you, you should mention it. Good men require an invite, the shadow suggested.

Oblivious to our silent conversation, Lev nudged his plastic cup lid to the floor to use the excuse of picking it up to glance at them. "It's her." Lev resettled himself, his arm wrapped protectively about the bag of scones. He had shifted position, though, and it only took a slight tilt of his head to see them. "The barista says she's a regular."

I sipped my coffee, eyes almost closing as the nutty warmth slipped down. "She didn't show any interest until Benny added two hundred dollars to his coffee card."

"You noticed that, too?" Motions languid, Lev stretched, the small man ending the motion by taking the phone from his pocket. "Hey, her intel came in." Brow furrowed, he scrolled. "She's a Ms. Fawn Nates. Works in retail a few blocks down. Mage, but it doesn't say what she specializes in. Ah! Here it is. Her father was a professor of ether studies out on the East Coast." His eyes met mine. "Deceased."

A quiver ran through me, making ripples on the coffee in my hand and pulling Pluck's hooded head up from my wrist. Most magic users learned from their parents. St. Unoc went beyond, teaching the skills to use magic in your mundane job for better effect and not get caught.

I snuck a glance, not liking that she saw Benedict as an easy mark. Lev wadded up his empty bag, clearly amused. "You want to hold hands? Make him jealous?"

Pluck's interest snapped to my forethoughts from where he'd been watching the electrons haze the overhead lights. You do and I'll freeze his fingernails off.

"Ah, no," I said, adding a mental rebuke: Pluck, relax. I'd known Lev for a few years, but until recently he'd been the neighbor down the hall, fixated on my roommate with a sweet, puppyish attraction. That he'd actually been surveilling her as a suspected separatist mage had come as a nasty shock. Now that Ashley was in mage prison, Lev and I occasionally spiraled together to bust our respective boredoms. Benedict had been giving me more space than I needed or wanted. I think he was worried he would come between Pluck and me, but Pluck was my shadow, and Benny? Benny was the best thing since smartphones.

I snuck another glance at Benedict over a sip of coffee, grimacing when his hand touched that woman's shoulder for a telling second when he stood. "He's moving," I said softly, and a small noise slipped from Lev. "She's not. He's going to the register."

"Uh-huh." Lev chuckled. "Don't look at her. She's spelling."

The sensation of Pluck around my wrist grew icy cold. It was all I could do to not turn.

"Nice tidy field," Lev murmured, head down as he pushed a drop of spilled coffee into a spiral. "Her lodestone is in a ring. Right hand."

"Right hand. Check." I stared at my coffee. If we snagged her lodestone, she couldn't spell anyone into forgetting anything. That is, if she only had the one. Ashley had usually carried three, but she was a separatist mage hell-bent on exterminating weavers-which had really put a crimp in our friendship when we realized I was one. Pluck?

Pluck's thoughts fizzed sourly in mine. I knew he didn't like Benedict, but I did, and the whole point of us being here was because Pluck said ether magic didn't affect shadows.

"Curious." Lev shifted in his chair. "She didn't throw the spell. She's left it on his chair."

"Like, for him to sit on?" Pluck, I tried again, only to get a sensation of obstinate defiance. The shadow snake wasn't interested in helping Benedict, only in keeping me safe. "Can you tell if it's ether magic?"

Lev shook his head. "Not by looking." His frown deepened as his eyes met mine. "She made a shitload of dross, though. Hey, is that shadow dog of yours ready?"

Pluck, if you don't show your value, they won't let us leave St. Unoc again.

Immediately his fizzy, icy presence sharpened in mine. It's a memory charm. It will take a few moments to mature after contact. Once it does, he will not remember the afternoon.

I took a slow breath, nervous. I was used to handling problems no one else could, quietly and with a practiced precision. This covert stuff was not my go-to. "It's her. Pluck says it will erase Benny's memory."

You want to see her without turning your head? Pluck asked, and before I could answer, his cold presence slithered deeper into my mind as if it were his own. I blinked at the table, dizzy with a confusing double vision until I submitted and Pluck's awareness took precedence.

With a subliminal whoosh, every single haze of dross in the room brightened into a threatening sparkle. It was how Pluck saw the world, and his fear of the unstable energy drifted about my thoughts as our minds became one. My entire outlook became crystalline almost, older, sharper, slower, and having a lot more complex feelings.

That said, Pluck moved on emotion, not logic. Most shadows did, or at least the few I'd talked with. It made them unfortunately easy to manipulate by those who knew. 'Course, if you did a shadow wrong, you'd likely end up driven insane by something alien and subversive in your brain.

This, though, was marvelous, and I relaxed as Pluck filled my mind. It was like training your brain to decipher a stereogram, and suddenly I was seeing both my coffee before me and Fawn Nates halfway across the store. Such finesse would have been impossible even a few weeks ago, but Pluck was getting better at working with my senses and I was getting better at trusting him. The scintillating cold carrying the scent of the universe felt almost comfortable.

Lev was right. A huge drift of dross hazed under the table like a heat distortion, and the prim woman pulled her feet in to avoid it. "Bizarre," I whispered, letting Pluck settle deeper into the folds of my brain.

I saw most spells as a glow or aura-like haze. Pluck, though, saw the charm waiting on Benedict's chair as a glittering lacework of potential energy, far more organized than dross. The latticelike pattern was more complex than I could see with my mundane eyes, and for a moment, I simply stared, fascinated. This is amazing, Pluck. How do you know what it does?

His flash of pleased amusement raced through me. You can read a menu, can't you?